A Vampire's Rise (36 page)

Sunaria reassured me that this feeling was merely transitional, that my past would again catch up with me and I’d remember everything with even more clarity than before.

I hoped she was wrong.

With no sign of the Creda, it seemed we’d shaken them off. The decimation of the Stone Lords, with the only apparent survivors, Lord Archer and a handful of his men, lessened the fear of their return. The year 1497 promised to come to an end. A new year would be better than the last.

And Jacob would be another year older.

Using all my will to stroll with a somewhat natural gait, I entered the store. The owner couldn’t remember where he’d acquired the piece. I did what I could, even going as far as sucking out his last drop of blood to nudge his memory.

I left with no answers.

* * * *

I found Sunaria with Marcus, standing outside the gates of Blackfriars Manor. Gothic towers loomed before us, a terrible reminder of all that had transpired. The blaze that raged through the building would leave no evidence.

“I thought you’d be long gone by now,” I said at last to Marcus.

“And miss this? Never. Where did you start the fire?”

“I went back to the painting of Delacroix in Venice,” I replied, “and started with that.”

He peered through the brass railings. “Locals will think it’s the great fire of London all over again, what with the cathedral and now this.”

“It’ll burn itself out,” I said. “As long as the properties don’t encroach on the buildings around them, the fire won’t spread.”

The inferno lit up the London skyline.

“Nothing wipes out the past like fire.” I gave a long sigh.

“When will you go back to Spain?” Marcus asked.

“When I’m ready. What are your plans?”

“I’m not sure. Still trying to . . .” Marcus shoveled his feet. “How do we justify the things that we do?”

“We take the criminals off the streets,” I faced him, “one man at a time, but it all adds up.”

“Look.” Sunaria pointed. “There are still vampires in there.”

“When the flames lick at their heels, the rest will leave,” I said.

The structure imploded and clouds of dust billowed, sending puffs of smoke around us. These dying vampires were Delacroix’s servants who’d assisted him, others had merely done nothing.

A rush of fiendish pleasure made me shudder. “Or maybe not.”

Orange fire reflected in Sunaria’s eyes, dancing flames mirrored in her irises. She caught me staring at her and gave a subtle smile, a gesture of regard. Thunder roared above us and more clouds gathered. An imminent storm threatened.

“Typical,” I said.

“What do you think the Creda will do to the count?” Marcus asked.

“They’ll bury him in a casket,” Sunaria said. “Deep underground.”

“Still alive?” Marcus sounded anxious.

“Yes.” She gave him a look. “That’s what they do.”

“And Roman’s head?” he asked.

“It will probably be placed in the same coffin.” She sighed.

“Bloody hell.” He nudged up against me.

“You’re safe with me.” I smiled.

Sudden rain struck the ground and splashed around us, and yet we remained stock still, watching, waiting. Gradually, the rain suppressed the fire. “Delacroix,” I shouted, “you were weighed in the balances and found wanting.” I pushed open the gates.

“Now it’s you quoting the Bible.” Marcus followed close behind me. “That’s from the book of Daniel, isn’t it?”

All three of us were drenched, but we didn’t care. With my arms outstretched, open mouthed, I stared up at the grey sky, enjoying the sensation of the fine rain drops striking my tongue. I spun round and round. I faced them both. “Welcome to Belshazzar’s.”

* * * *

Sunaria and I remained as guests in The Cavendish Hotel.

Marcus needed to learn to hunt and establish his independence. I’d arranged to meet with him in the old Woodgrange cemetery, known more for its exclusive clientele, the once wealthy, and now deceased, resting soundly beneath finely crafted, ornate tombstones. This graveyard provided a safe place of rest for those who could afford it. Though, whenever I’d previously visited, the night watchman had fallen asleep. Scent from the eucalyptus trees permeated the air. The gravestones were all well tended. Some of the time-honored monuments were watched over by carved angels, and their stone gazes followed me as I ambled through. Oak trees lined the winding pathway, providing much needed shelter during the summer months and, for us, privacy. City life had for a moment been suspended in here.

Marcus rested on one of the older tombstones, deep in thought and very nervous. I lingered behind him for a moment, enjoying reading his thoughts. His ruminations were of me.

I chuckled. “I’m flattered.”

Marcus jolted and spun round to face me. “You scared me half to death!”

I laughed. “You need to be more cautious.”

“Let’s get it over with.”

“You make it sound unpalatable.”

“Please tell me you’re joking.”

I leaned against the tombstone next to his. “To survive, you’re going to have to look at it differently.”

Marcus paced.

I sighed. “You can’t go on like this.”

He rubbed his hands together. “Is there any other way?”

“No.”

“So you just bite, suck, and run?”

“One does not gulp a fine wine, or scoff a delicious meal.”

“You mean you enjoy it?”

“Pleasure like no other.”

“You really find that when you do it?”

“Marcus, calm down.”

“Look, I’m bloody terrified.”

“And you’re starving too, right?”

He nodded. “After I took that girl in the tower . . . not sure I can do it again.”

“I’ll walk you through it.”

“What if it goes wrong?”

“It never does,” I said. “We’re designed to be the perfect predator.”

“Dear God.”

“Yes, by all accounts, he is.” I rested my fingertips on my temples. “If your sister can do it . . .”

“That’s women for you, natural born killers.”

“Rachel’s so sweet, they don’t even see her coming.”

“What if they beg for mercy?”

I grabbed his arm and guided him along the pathway. “The art is to have them begging for more.” I stopped before a tomb. “See that.”

“The gravestone?” He sighed. “I’ll never have one.”

“Exactly. Something good comes out of every situation, and for us that’s one hell of a benefit.”

* * * *

Within the hour, we’d taken a corner table in a noisy, public house, The Baker’s Dozen. The beer flowed and the finest food was offered. This place attracted the more discerning customers. Apparently, it had once been a bakery, but had soon become a meeting place for locals. Next, warm ale became available and its popularity had grown.

Marcus stared at a young man who leaned on the bar, sipping his ale.

I nudged Marcus. “I hope you’re not eyeing him up?”

“I thought you’d be pleased.”

“He’s rolling his wedding ring.”

“So?”

“He’s not used to wearing it.”

“He’s a newlywed?”

“Are you really considering separating young love?”

“Oh, God.”

“Try again.”

Marcus shrugged.

I discreetly pointed to a rotund gentleman in the corner. The man, easily in his fifties, snuggled next to a well-dressed, middle-aged woman.

“Him?” Marcus cringed.

My gaze fell on his escort.

“His wife?” Marcus asked in surprise.

“Not his wife.”

A ruckus in the corner caught our attention. Two men argued and all eyes were on them. Taking advantage of the distraction, the woman pick-pocketed the rotund man and then headed out of the door with her prize.

I gestured to the barmaid. “I’d like to pay for our drinks.”

“You’re not eating then?” she asked, raising her voice over the din.

“Prior dinner engagement.” I winked at Marcus.

We left a handful of coins to pay for our untouched drinks and tracked the woman, waiting for the opportune moment when she disappeared down a dark alley or, as she did now, headed fast into Manor Park.

Facing her, we strolled through the well-tended gardens, the epitome of two gentlemen taking the night air.

“Excuse me?” Her voice beckoned.

We stopped and offered her a polite bow.

“You’re out late.” She pushed her breasts up and gave a seductive smile, revealing a mouth full of rotten teeth. To our right, the bushes rustled and out jumped a twenty-year-old, pointing his pistol at us. I recognized her accomplice, one of the men who’d caused a ruckus, just minutes ago in the pub. His broken nose and cauliflower ears revealed his penchant for boxing.

“Sometimes, they make it easy for you.” I gave Marcus a sideways glance.

“I can see that,” he said.

“Hand your money over. All of it,” the man snapped.

“Which one would you like?” I asked Marcus.

“You choose,” Marcus whispered.

I turned to him. “This is not about what I want.”

The woman scowled. “Shut up and give us your money.”

“Or I’ll shoot your ruddy head off.” The man jabbed his gun barrel closer to my chin.

I winked at Marcus. “Looks like the decision’s been made for us.”

Chapter 44

BELSHAZZAR’S ROSE UP out of the debris.

The stately manor’s exterior, with its classic architecture, was a modest property compared to what it had once been. As such, it would draw less attention, though I had a suspicion that with Sunaria’s expensive tastes, the interior would be decadent. Neither of us felt sentimental about living in a home erected upon what had once been Blackfriars. In fact, we looked upon it as a victory. The bohemian lifestyle of the city enabled us to blend in.

Delacroix’s disappearance sent shock waves through the underworld. The rumor spread about a new Status Regal in town. We were left alone.

With my recent transformation came a soaring confidence. Intuition came easily, though despite insight, I’d become painfully unforgiving. I felt as though I’d personally traveled through centuries, earning every last drop of knowledge, instead of having stolen it from Delacroix that night.

My desire to spend more time alone heightened. I wandered the streets like a dark phantom, a threat to anyone who crossed my path. Hunting took on a heightened pleasure. I refused to question these feelings, fearing that, should I examine them, I’d lose the ability to muster an exquisite sense of dominion at any given moment.

My new obsession was myself.

* * * *

As predicted, Sunaria became engrossed in the new interior designs. When she wasn’t out helping me look for Jacob, she spent money like water. We shipped in marble from Italy, furnishings from Madrid, and artwork from the country. We installed the grandest of chandeliers, their candlelight reflecting exquisitely off the luxurious, homey furnishings. The mahogany staircase swept up and along, leading to both the east and west of the manor.

We moved into our new home. Luxury and ensured privacy aided our transition. Despite the guard dogs we acquired, ironically the breed known as bloodhounds, we were still cautious. The animals soon got used to us and at times Sunaria could be seen wandering around the manor with several of them in tow. Very often, I’d hear their paws on the marble floor before I saw them.

We hired servants, maids to take care of the day to day running of the house, and gardeners for the grounds. With constant mindfulness, we passed for normal.

Our bedroom on the upper floor had no windows, a genius design that Sunaria came up with. Although the architect had at first resisted implementing such an eccentric plan, the money we paid convinced him it would do just fine. After a month, I settled in, no longer wondering where the hell I was when I woke up. Stability was a welcome change.

The one thing that I had not accounted for was nature’s most frightening bestowal, a woman’s jealousy, that formidable sting that comes without warning. Had I had any inclination that inviting Marcus and Rachel to live with us would have incited the worst in Sunaria, I’d have reconsidered. Having awoken from a restless sleep, I sat back against the headboard. A pouting Sunaria dressed. I admired her curves as she moved about the room, though considered staying quiet, hoping that her mood would improve before I spoke. She sat before the vanity dresser and brushed her long dark locks. Despite the lack of her mirrored reflection, Sunaria behaved as though she had one.

“You look beautiful,” I said, breaking the silence.

She expertly applied rouge to her pale cheeks and rubbed lipstick over already pink lips.

“This place is huge, there’s more than enough room for all of us,” I told her.